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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831727">Seeking Silence on Shortwaves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish'>CKBookish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Batman Bingo 2020 [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Depiction of Injuries, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Editing? haven't heard of her., Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Riddler - Freeform, Silence on Comms, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Whump, stab wounds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:48:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk.  In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world.  Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things.  Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing.  Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.</p>
<p>Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms.  When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked.  But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?</p>
<p>Batman Bingo 2020: Riddler</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Batman Bingo 2020 [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>451</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Seeking Silence on Shortwaves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I can't believe we only have one more bingo left after this one.  It seems bonkers to me.  </p>
<p>As always, I hope you enjoy and I love to hear from you.  Comments are my life blood and Kudos keep me fired up.  </p>
<p>So without further adieu batman bingo 2020: Riddler</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s a flaw in our systems,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>a lack of communication; </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>despite the fact: we’re all still speaking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-I would give anything to end this silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dick lay on the ground as words washed over him.  He wondered if Bruce would ever interrupt.  He had an override that he could use to stop Tim from hogging the airwave, but he only used it when he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to tell them something.  Dick hadn’t ever thought about their system being flawed.  Batman could always override the comms. He could tell Robin information when they were separated despite the fact that it was a half-duplex system. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick hadn’t ever thought of it as an unsafe system or questioned its efficiency.  But now as he lay blinking back the blackness that threatened to swallow him whole, he felt differently.  He wasn’t even supposed to be in Gotham. He should have grabbed one of Bruce’s headsets.  Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be able to hit the override.  It seemed rather short sided that Robin didn’t have his own override now that he thought about it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had joined patrol as a last minute addition. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He’d only come to help Tim with a school project.  He’d only stayed for patrol on a whim, and now he was sitting trapped in a tank filling with water, as he blead out trying to solve this dumb riddle alone, listening to Tim rant and about a game he played with friends last weekend.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk.  In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world.  Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things.  Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing.  Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life. Dick shook his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span> No, he couldn't die not… not like this. </span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>Not so soon after Jason.</span>
  </em>
  <span>   He glanced down at the blade in his side wondering if it was piercing anything overly necessary for living.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifted slightly,  blade had sunk down to the hilt and Dick could feel it grinding against a bone rather painfully.  But that was only half the problem.  He could sit here bleeding for a long time,  He just needed to stay still and kept pressure on the wound.  No, the real problem was he was facing </span>
  <em>
    <span>two </span>
  </em>
  <span>ticking clocks.  One was blood loss, and the other was the amount of air he had left.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He half wondered if he could tear his uniform to plug the spout that was pouring water into the tank.  It had a grate over it, likely to prevent that exact action from occurring.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick sighed.  The only way he was getting out of here was by solving Riddler’s puzzle.  Dick turned back to the board just on the other side of the glass.  He hated playing villains’ games, but he hated it even more when he was struggling to stay conscious.  The board swam in and out of focus as he shifted slightly to see it better. The water had come up to the top of his crossed legs.  He tilted his head back and took several deep breaths.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only Bruce would interrupt Tim.  He just needed a second of air time to tell them. But Tim was chatting happily and Dick couldn’t talk over him.  Dick was honestly wondering how they had never thought about this before.  How had they gone so long using a simple two-way system.  It seemed so impossible.  Yet here they were, </span>
  <em>
    <span>years </span>
  </em>
  <span>into the business and they had never upgraded to a full-duplex system.  Perhaps it was that there were rarely three of them in town.  Sure Batgirl was around but she rarely worked with Batman to necessitate the upgrade. When she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>with them, it was a planned operation, and there was little room for needless chatter on comms.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And so then we had to fight this big sea monster.  Which was way more powerful than us, since Bart fell into a lava pit and lost all of his powers.  So we had to lull it to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dick </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted to sleep.  Sleeping sounded good.  Would be much nicer than thinking about this puzzle.  Dick’s eyes begin to droop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushed down harder on the tissue around the blade, the pain that shot through him pulled his mind back to full alertness.  He would get out of here, if all he had left was forced adrenaline.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The puzzle was a picture of a heart with labels that were completely incorrect.  Above it was written one question:  What is at the center of Batman’s heart?  Dick wondered if he could just guess and get the question right without solving the image below.  But being injured meant that he had even less change of escape if he made the already deadly trap worse by guessing wrong.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick wished he had spent more time paying attention in high school anatomy.  He had found the class rather boring.  He knew names of muscles and bones,  he knew parts of the brain and where it was deadly to hit an opponent and where it was safe.  But looking at a diagram of the heart was beyond him.  He could name the aorta, but that was all he could remember.  Maybe he knew more, but his head was pounding and the picture was moving unhelpfully.  Even with all that, he knew enough to know this was wrong.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no way the heart had something called a crucible in it.  He didn’t think it was called a left and right sector either.  But he couldn’t say that with any certainty, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had no way to ask for help. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce would be able to solve this in a minute.  Dick was sure.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick shivered, and glanced at the pipe.  Water was flowing in at a steady rate. He could try and calculate how long it would take to fill up the tank he was in, but his brain already felt foggy, as if his head were filled with cotton wool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water was </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His whole body was covered in goosebumps. Dick blinked. His suit was isolated.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel the cold.  But he was.  He was freezing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that was when the dragon showed up and ate Kon.  It was kind of funny, he was in there for half an hour before he got.. Well he had to wait for it to go to the bathroom, before he could do anything.  Which of course meant we had to feed the thing, but Bart didn’t have his powers so…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick stared at the words, they seemed to swim together.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why was Tim fighting a dragon?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  That didn’t sound right.  The room seemed to grow darker. He closed his eyes just for a moment.  He would solve the riddle after he rested for a bit.  He would figure out why Tim was righting dragons too...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jerked awake and flinched as the blade-- still in his side-- was jostled.  He tried to suck in a breath but found his mouth flooded with water.  Dick thrashed around, panicked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where… oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  His legs wobbled as he fought to push himself up off the ground.  He spat and retched water, all the while trying to gulp down air.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water around him swirled with a pink hue.  The water was much higher than he was comfortable with.  He could no longer sit on the floor of the container.  At best he could kneel.  Even on his knees the water reached his chin.  Soon he would  need to stand up.  How long had he been out?  The water had been just at the top of his legs not long ago, or so he thought.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick reached up to his comms unit and tapped the button to on.  He was hit with the sound of giggles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But then get this… We ran into an army of rabbits.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick flinched slightly.  Tim was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>talking. Well perhaps he had stopped when Dick was unconscious, but that was a missed opportunity.  Dick closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.  He wasn’t going to get out of here unless he did it himself. He couldn’t wait for an opening to ask for help, not when he was struggling to stay awake as it was.   He looked at the diagram again and swore. The picture had several labels on it and Dick was almost sure they weren’t parts of the heart.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  If they weren’t parts of the heart they had to be something else. He took a deep breath.  It felt like his lungs were rattling as he did.  He wondered if he had coughed all the water out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The caldron wasn’t a part of the heart he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>that.  So what was it?  He could only think some odd </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  What did Batman and a heart have to do with magic?  There was a neighborhood called the Caldron, but he didn’t know about the other words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at the list of words and the question again. The words were coming in and out of focus.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is at the center of Batman’s heart?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Dick leaned his head against the glass.  What is at the center of Batman’s heart… it could be a pun.  It could be literal.  It could have nothing to do with the diagram at all.  Dick wanted to lay down and sleep.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Robin I need you to go check out a call from Burnley.  Let me know if you see anything that way.  I just got a ping from the batcomputer saying an alarm at the West Bank went off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick had never moved so fast in his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“B!” He practically shouted into his comm as he hit the transmit button.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nightwing?”  Bruce’s voice was suddenly tight and filled with worry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m stuck.  Riddler.”  Dick wanted to cry with relief.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Details?” Batman’s voice wavered slightly.  Dick wondered if Bruce could hear the panic he was feeling in his voice.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nightwing looked around the room beyond the glass box he currently occupied.  “I’m in an old building, turn of the century. Looks like it was a fire house at one point.  There is a row of garage doors and a stack of hoses in the corner.  I’m in a box filled with water and there’s a riddle that reads, what is at the center of Batman’s heart?  No capital letters except for the B in Batman.  The font is Roman I think.  It has a diagram of a heart under it. But the labels are wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick closed his eyes, he was out of breath just saying that much.  He fought to hold back a cough.  Coughing hurt.  It hurt a lot.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re injured.”  Bruce sounded upset. Dick wondered if it was worth the confirmation.  Bruce hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>asked.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick grunted, deciding it was better than trying to talk.  He took deep breaths fighting the urge to sit down.  The water was still pouring in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A small voice spoke, “how… how long have you been there?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick felt a cold that had nothing to do with blood loss or the water now to his waist, now that he was standing.  “Not-- not long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lie was easy.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one bought it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The line was silent for a moment, and Dick knew that they would be having a serious conversation later.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are the labels on the chart?”  Bruce spoke hastily.  Dick wondered if he was mad.  He sounded distracted.  Dick knew he was trying to pull up a trace from his radio signal.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um it has crucible atrium , left sector, right sector, pulmonary cape, superior vena bridge, and pulmonary reservoir.”  Dick looked down at the pink water around him nervously. It was darker then he would like, more red than clear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not…”  Bruce hummed slightly.  “Where are they all located?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On the left side towards the middleish is crucible atrium.  Left sector bottom left, right sector bottom right, pulmonary top right, superior vena bridge upper left and pulmonary reservoir middle.”  Dick slurred slightly as he spoke.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nightwing. What are your injuries?” Bruce asked after a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick blinked, the map was blurring.  “Stab wound under my right, eighth.. No.  Ninth rib.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How deep?”  Bruce sounded like he was running. He was panting slightly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not really sure.”  Dick admitted.  He was past feeling anything, but numbing cold and dull pain, but that was everywhere.  He rather wanted to lay back and float on the water.  Bruce would get him.  He was good at the whole saving people thing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I think I’ve got a lock on your location.  I’m maybe twenty minutes out.  Robin is Thirty five.  What are the water levels?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Err.. up to my belly button.”  Dick felt like throwing up.  His whole body was shaking.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How fast is the water coming in?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick wondered if Bruce really wanted to know or if he was merely trying to keep him talking. Dick glanced at the spout.  It seemed to be filling the box faster than it had at the start of his time in the box. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fast. But I can hold my breath if I need. You’re not that far.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would rather not risk it.  Tell me about the riddle more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick bit back a groan.  He wanted to sleep. To close his eyes and let the pain take him.  “It’s just a heart. With bad labels.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say them again.  Is anything spelled wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.  I don’t think so.  I don’t even know what these mean. B?” Dick narrowed his eyes, and tried to stop the letters from dancing around.  “What is a crucible?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s voice broke in. “It's a trail or hard situation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That makes no sense.”  Dick narrowed his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it can mean a container too.”  Bruce said, breathing heavily.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick wondered how fast he was running.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Container.”  Dick mumbled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about the other ones? They don’t seem right either.” Tim asked nervously, as if he was now scared to speak at all over the comms system.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think we have bridges in our…”  Dick trailed off and narrowed his eyes again.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nightwing?”  Bruce’s voice was higher than normal.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could a crucible be a cauldron?”  Dick mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose it could.”  Bruce replied. Dick could hear the sound of wind as Bruce spoke.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pulmonary cape is in the top right of the diagram.”  Dick said slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cape?” Tim asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick wondered if he was delirious from blood loss.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you tilted it… B...  Would you say Gotham is shaped kind of like a heart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The comm was silent.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick let his eyes fall closed.  His head was pounding and he was really starting to feel weak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It could be considered... to look similar.”  Batman said slowly though that might have been because he was running still.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a reservoir in the center of Robinson park,  the middle of the diagram was labeled reservoir.  Cape Carmine was in the northern east section of the city, and the peninsula was sort of like the vain the diagram was pointed to.  Then the sectors could mean districts, which would correspond with both the fashion and financial districts.  Then… it was...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is at the center of Batman’s heart?  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gotham</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”  Dick pressed his forehead against the glass and spoke softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water stopped suddenly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick looked at the spout and frowned.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gotham</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  That was the answer?  He closed his eyes, half in relief and half in exhaustion.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just outside.” Bruce’s voice was soothing.  Why had Dick never really appreciated that before?  There was a slight splash, but Dick didn’t notice it.  He simply fell back into the now ruddy water and let the pain finally wash him away.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tim sat with his head in his hands, but Bruce couldn’t deal with that now.  Right now he was far too busy holding his son’s side closed.  Whatever Alfred was doing, he hoped he would hurry. Bruce pressed his hands down firmly and tried not to wince at the way Dick’s side gave or the way the blood stained his hands.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick had been long unconscious.  Bruce was almost glad,  because then he wouldn’t feel the pain.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred pushed Bruce aside roughly and shouted for them to all get out.  Bruce nodded and went to the door, Tim trudged behind him wordlessly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce started to reach out, but stopped when he remembered how his hands were stained red.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim didn’t seem to notice. He walked slowly to the batcomputer and slumped down in the chair.  Bruce glanced back at the medical bay doors and where Tim now sat kicking his left foot angrily with his right.  Bruce wanted to be near the door in case Alfred needed him, in case Dick…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce glanced back at Tim.  He looked... well Bruce </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>that look.  It was an expression every Robin had worn over the years.  Bruce hated it.  He moved away from the door.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t even look up.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim.” Bruce sank down in front of the chair so that he was looking up at Tim. “It’s not your fault.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim snorted.  “I-- He couldn’t ask for help and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was my fault.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.  It was my fault for never upgrading the comms systems.  I should have changed it years ago, but I never thought it would… I’ve never had to worry about two of you at once-- not like this anyway.  Dick wasn’t around much when Jaso--”  Bruce bit his lip and pushed back the cowl.  He winced slightly when blood smeared on his face from his hands.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dick would be fine.  He had to be.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I should have thought about it.  I didn’t tell you to stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I was enjoying it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bruce thought, feeling guilt in his gut.  He had been having fun listening to Tim talk and Dick had almost… He still could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bruce that’s dumb.”  Tim shifted uncomfortably.  “I was talking, not you.  You can’t blame yourself for not thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce tilted his head, looking up at the boy in front of him.  They were so alike it hurt and yet so completely different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then... it’s neither of our faults and both all at once.  Because you couldn’t have known either.” Bruce licked his lips, he could taste the salt on his own skin from sweet.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”  Tim whispered.  “I-- is he…”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce pulled Tim forward roughly so that his head rested on his shoulders.  The hug was uncomfortable, but neither seemed to care.  Tim clung to Bruce as if he were the only raft in a turbulent ocean.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that hunched over and bent into odd angles just to hold each other as they waited.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce fixed his eyes on a shelf behind Tim.  He counted all the nicks in the metal.  He  couldn’t close his eyes.  If he did he would imagine another dead son.  Bruce didn’t move until Tim sniffed and pulled back.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can configure the transponders to accept data and transmit at the same time if we…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce blinked.  Tim was already standing up and pulling tools from the wall.  Bruce rocked back on his heels and stood.  The door to the medical bay was still closed.  He looked back at Tim,  they really were so alike.  But Bruce had done this longer.  He knew moving didn’t really help. Working was only a way to delay the pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced down at his hands, blood was dried and flaking off of them.  The skin was stained and the creases in his skin stood out prominently were the blood pooled.  Bruce shuffled over the hoses he used to wash the batmobile and bikes.  He turned the water on and shoved his hands under the stream, scrubbing them for all he was worth.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even after his hands were no longer red they felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>unclean</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bruce forced himself to stop scrubbing and turned the hose off.  Tim was pulling apart headsets, with harsh and jerky movements.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce sighed and went to join him. They worked in silence rewiring and programming until Alfred finally emerged.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce felt a knot in his gut when the doors slid open.  Alfred merely nodded and stood aside.  Bruce moved as fast as his tired body would allow.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick lay on the bed bandaged and under fresh bedding.  He was so pale, so small.  That he was there at all seemed a miracle.  The heart monitor sang a song more beautiful than any symphony and Bruce would never grow tired of hearing it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He collapsed in the chair next to the bed.  He hated that chair, and that bed.  He hated that room.  He knew there might come a day where he would sit here and wait for a person who would never wake up.  Bruce didn’t know if he would be able to recover if that day ever came around again.  He was only grateful that it wasn’t today.  No he would sit here and wait for Dick to come around.  He would help Tim fix the comms to work as a full-duplex system.  He would keep his boys safe.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would do anything to be able to hear them... all. But he would settle for being able to always hear two. </span>
</p>
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